


take him home

by macabre



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabre/pseuds/macabre
Summary: “Don’t!” Steve yells, his voice hoarse enough it’s still at low volume, but it’s clearly a yell. “Don’t touch me!”
There’s a sickening feeling settling in his stomach when he thinks about Steve in the interrogation room, how still, how silent he was. Now, when he’s with Bucky again, he’s screaming, and he isn’t stopping. His eyes slide over Bucky’s - and Bucky knows this isn’t a case of Steve not recognizing him. Even in this moment, Steve sees Bucky.





	

  
    Steve wasn’t the same. He wasn’t Steve, the scrawny shit who he used to rescue from the fist of punk kids in the neighborhood, nor from the adoring kisses of elderly women who he helped up the stairs, but he also wasn’t the Captain America he met in DC either.   
  
    This Steve had the same height, some of the same muscle too, but it was all stretched far too thin over bones. His skin had barely more color than said bones, and his eyes were vacant, like he didn’t recognize anything going on around him.  
  
  
  
  _“What happened?” Bucky asked._  
  
 _“We don’t know, man. Chill for a minute. You’re no use to him like this.”_  
  
 _“What happened?!” He demanded instead._   
  
  
  
    This Steve isn’t broken like Bucky was; they’ve been working hard at it clearly, but that’s why he’s here. HYRDA welcomes the Winter Soldier back, arms wide open with electroshock and punishment that leaves him unable to stand for a minimum of twenty-four hours. He wonders if they might have killed him if not for the same situation at hand.   
  
    At long last, they have their hands on Captain America. They won’t try to kill him this time, not when they’re so far underground, away from SHIELD and the Avengers. If they didn’t find the Captain already, they weren’t going to.   
  
    Of course, Bucky is useful to them as well, but in ways no more than what they can do with him to Steve. They let him see him, just for a moment when they’re dragging his broken legs behind him to his holding cell, very shortly after they reach the bottom level, which already took Bucky a week to get to after HYDRA took him above.   
  
    That’s when he sees the ghost of Steve, all strung up like lights on Christmas. His holding cell is the interrogation room, but Bucky knows it’s a room for interrogation of super soldiers, and as the list is fairly short at the moment, it was built for him. He knows every toy in that toybox. He grimaces seeing the doorframe, and when he sees Steve through it, he cries. Silently, as if it might be a surprise from his captors.   
  
    His captors. His old team, he reminds himself. They lock him in a bare room while his bones mend themselves. It is a long night. He stays as quiet as possible, but when the building shakes like a quake coming through, Bucky screams in his pain, the motion setting his very skin on fire.   
      
    Unsure of why the building shook. He doesn’t really want to know either. He lies there, trying to keep track of the hours and think of how he’s going to get to Steve, how he’s going to get them out. Depending on Steve’s shape, they might be able to strong-arm their way through the first couple waves of soldiers, but he’s not sure they’ll get off this level, and he’s not sure Steve can fight period right now.   
  
    After a few days, Bucky warily crawls to his feet to test out his legs. The breaks were painful, but clean. They hurt now, standing, but he can walk gingerly, which means in another day or two he’ll be able to walk normally without a limp. He sits back down and waits.   
  
  
  
  
  
     _“Hey Buck,” Steve says, leaning against the door, hands shoved into his pockets. “You ever going to quit running and come home?”_  
  
 _Today Bucky has led Steve to a building in Hell’s Kitchen, where tourists climb stairs beneath them, pretzel in hand, or a business man runs by, hailing a cab. There are enough people shuffling by that neither of them can say too much._  
  
 _“That’s not my home,” Bucky says, but he thinks that Steve understands. Steve is home, but Steve keeps company that Bucky’d rather not keep, so Bucky dodges Brooklyn, and Steve’s apartment, and other places that Steve frequents._  
  
 _“You can trust them,” he says, one hand gently taking his arm. “I trust them.”_  
  
 _“That means nothing.” Steve would trust a chimp in the right situation, and Bucky wants to say this, but he doesn’t. He often thinks of all the things he wants to say to Steve, but every time the moment comes and they’re together, the words slip away. All he can do is let Steve touch him, and the heat sears through the metal, and he finds he doesn’t want to think anymore._  
  
 _It’s dangerous. One day, Steve might convince him to stop hiding._  
  
 _Steve sighs, then runs his hand down to Bucky’s and gives it a squeeze. “C’mon then. Let’s take a walk.”_  
  
      
  
  
      
    The first few times Bucky revealed himself to Steve, the blonde would beg him to come with him. After awhile, Steve knew Bucky would continue to show up, and he let Bucky have his space. He didn’t ask anymore. When they did see each other, they’d go try Ethiopian food or walk along the Hudson. Steve was never happy about it, just content enough he didn’t try dragging Bucky in, kicking and screaming.  
  
    Now, Bucky wonders if he had been there, would they be here? Back in HYRDA’s hands. In a way Steve has yet to see.   
  
    Well, he’s seen it now. It took a month before Bucky made it here. A month isn’t years, but it’s long enough Steve is different.  
  
    Bucky has to wait. He waits until his stomach is stone and his legs feel hollow again. They come for him after he’s already lost track of a good sense of time. He should be suspicious immediately, simply because they won’t bind him or drug him or send anything other than a few guns.  
  
    They take him straight to the interrogation room where everyone else waits, including Steve. They’ve striped him of this armor and the only thing left is a pair of loose fitting black pants, hanging low on his hips. There are persistent bruises on his torso and face that Bucky immediately sees, which means he’s been subject to constant torture.   
  
    He expects the blank look on Steve’s face to persist, but when Bucky steps closer, he starts screaming, writhing against the restraints holding his arms above his head. Bucky stops, takes a half step back, and slowly the screams wane off into ragged breathing.  
      
    The men in the room edge closer on the two of them. When he looks around, he doesn’t recognize a single face, which by itself doesn’t mean anything, but when Bucky looks around, things have changed in the room.  
  
    “You’re not HYRDA.”  
  
    There’s a laugh, manically, almost like a carton’s laugh. A short man, one who reminds him very much of Zola, but younger with wild hair and thicker glasses. He hides behind his army in his white coat, but doesn’t explain himself, doesn’t do anything.   
  
    The tendons in Bucky’s neck jump when he swallows.  
  
    There is a long pause when no one moves. Then Bucky grabs the man closest to him and rams his head into the next closest soldier. Everyone moves, and Steve screams, and almost immediately there is a bullet lodged in Bucky’s side and a knife between where the plates start in his arm and the flesh there. The laughing is fading away into the background - the doctor is retreating, and with him a good portion of the men.   
  
    The ones that are left behind are on the ground in a shockingly short amount of time. Bucky pants above them, kicking one who’s still squirming on the floor. He’s torn between chasing the doctor and staying put, eyeing the room for explosives. Two super soldiers in one place, it’s as good as any chance, but they are left alone, and he can’t see or hear anything in the room. He does a short sweep, pausing in the area where they used to have his chair. Now, there are giant bolts in the floor and charred marks dragging across the floor.   
  
    Stupid, he thinks. He’s been completely stupid about the situation. Didn’t even realize these people weren’t HYRDA. How could he be so stupid?  
  
    Behind him, Steve has fallen silent. The entire room is too quiet. Cautiously, Bucky approaches him from the back. Steve tenses, but doesn’t move otherwise. His back, too, is covered in lacerations. He’s been whipped, and recently.   
  
    “Give me a second, Steve.” He examines the restraints, thick metal ones. Maybe the explosives are attached to them? Rigged to go off when he releases Steve.   
  
    But nothing. In fact, if Steve were in his prime, he could probably break them, but Steve is shrinking from him, craning his head into the crevice of his opposite arm from where Bucky stands.   
  
    “Steve?”  
  
    No answer. Bucky curls his fingers around the first cuff, Steve wincing with this whole body away from him.   
  
    “Say something, buddy.” He pulls the restraint off and Steve’s whole body collapses, his one arm now dangling above him like a the last string of a puppet.   
      
    Steve keeps his eyes slammed shut, his body shaking when Bucky releases him fully. He drops slack to the ground. Bucky immediately moves to help him up, but Steve screams.   
  
    “Hey, now, it’s okay, it’s me,” he says, quietly, evenly. Calmly. “Steve, it’s Bucky.”  
  
    He thinks of the first time he saw Steve, on that bridge, when the disorientation was so great that it crippled him in a way he couldn’t have anticipated. He doesn’t know the extent of Steve’s injuries, and he doesn’t know what kind of measures they took against his mind.   
  
    “Steve, we need to get out of here, now.”   
  
    Gently, he takes Steve’s arm and wraps it around his shoulder.   
  
    “No, don’t.” It’s less than a whisper, the barest breath coming from Steve.   
  
    “It’s okay Steve.” Bucky pulls him to his feet, then scoops him off his feet into his arms. The length of his limbs makes it awkward for Bucky to carry him, but Jesus, he’s so light. It seems completely illogical that he could have lost this much weight in a month.   
  
    As light as he is, Steve isn’t making it easy for him. He thrashes about, as much as possible in his state, so Bucky tightens his hold more than he would like. He doesn’t want Steve to feel like he’s still a prisoner, and he’s not in the right mind, maybe not recognizing him at all.   
  
    The HYRDA base they took over functions the same, and Bucky remembers the layout easily. There are no traps, nothing to stop them, no lingering soldiers. So why did they take Captain America? They’ve clearly put him through hell, but it doesn’t look like they were trying to kill him exactly.   
  
    When they reach the surface and the light breaks in on them, Steve’s eyes wrench open and then his mouth opens and he wails. It actually startles Bucky to the point that he looses his grip on the writhing body and Steve slips away from him. When Bucky reaches down for him again, Steve throws a punch at him. It’s weak enough that Bucky catches it easily.   
  
    “Don’t!” Steve yells, his voice hoarse enough it’s still at low volume, but it’s clearly a yell. “Don’t touch me!”  
  
    There’s a sickening feeling settling in his stomach when he thinks about Steve in the interrogation room, how still, how silent he was. Now, when he’s with Bucky again, he’s screaming, and he isn’t stopping. His eyes slide over Bucky’s - and Bucky knows this isn’t a case of Steve not recognizing him. Even in this moment, Steve sees Bucky.

  
  
  
   _“Steve,” Bucky whispers, Steve brushing up against him, smiling. He gently guides him backwards, pushing him ever so gently. He won’t touch him and Bucky isn’t sure he wants him to. He can’t think straight when Steve touches him, and it’s been more and more frequent lately. Now when they see each other, Steve will wrap him up in those too-big-hands and won’t let him go. He tries holding his hand, tries to brush through Bucky’s hair with his fingers._  
  
 _Today, Steve greets him only with a smile. Doesn’t hug him, doesn’t lead him by his hand. They’re far from the city this time, in the middle of good old-fashioned nowhere. It’s brisk out, but sunny. So sunny that even Bucky realizes faintly it’s what others could consider a beautiful day._  
  
 _He trails after Steve, disoriented without the touch. He’s not sure what they’re doing, because they’re not touching and they’re not talking._  
  
 _His insides feel completely wound up by the time Steve moves to leave, his bike parked in a remote spot at a large tree, the road just on the other side. Bucky trails after him, confused, where is he going, why did he come if he mostly ignored him?_  
  
 _Bucky slips a foot in front of Steve and pivots around to cut him off, chest-to-chest. He opens his mouth to ask - to say - but Steve starts laughing at him. Then he crowds in on him. Pushes him back until his legs hit Steve’s bike and he can feel the rumble through Steve’s chest into his._  
  
 _“Steve.”_  
  
 _He isn’t stopping, he’s still coming at him, but their hips are pushed flush against each other and there’s nowhere for him to go. Bucky leans back, and Steve looms over him, his breath ghosting over his lips now._  
  
 _“Steve, please.”_  
  
 _“Please what, Buck?” But his lips are already tickling across Bucky’s when he speaks, so all he has to do is close his eyes and stay put. Steve purses his lips against his, and finally - contact. He shakes with relief. Shakes so hard that Steve has to hold him together, or else he’s going to shake apart._  
  
 _“Steve.”_  
  
 _“I know, Buck, I know.”_

  
  
  
  
  
    That Steve is gone now. The sure and confident one. The Steve that was all in one piece. It’s sunny, just like that day, but Bucky doesn’t try and touch him again. Steve’s on the ground, crawling away from him.  
  
    He makes the call. Sam shows up in a helicopter borrowed from Stark. When he jumps out, his eyes stay on Bucky but he moves towards Steve, who’s immobile about a half mile away. Bucky has kept close enough to Steve that he feels like he can grab him quickly if need be should their friends return, but far enough away that Steve doesn’t yell. The screams have been horrible. His voice is clearly sore from use, and the whimpers that come after are something Bucky’s never heard from Steve before. Not when he was sick, nor when he almost died from his best friend’s own hands.   
  
    Sam crouches low and Bucky can almost make out the faint whispers. They’re piercing his heart, giving Bucky a fresh pain, a new one that he hasn’t exactly felt before.   
  
    When Sam touches Steve, there is no screaming. In fact, Bucky can tell he’s reaching for Sam with open arms, even though he’s having a hard time reaching up at all with shaking arms. Sam wrestles Steve to his feet and moves him towards the helicopter. They disappear inside, and Bucky starts his hike back.  
  
    “Hey, man! Where you going?” Sam runs up behind him.  
  
    “Just get him to medical.” There’s a part in the back of his mind that thinks, maybe, just maybe, there are some kind of drugs still in his system, and once Steve gets them all flushed, he’ll be back to normal.  
  
    But Bucky hasn’t lived a life of optimism.   
  
    “What are you doing? What happened down there?” Sam grabs his shoulder, the right one, and Bucky swings his arm around to break contact. “C’mon, man, Steve needs you. Get in there.”  
      
    “No.” He doesn’t need me, Bucky thinks. “He’s having a reaction to my presence. I need to stay clear.”  
  
    They’re both still, Sam very clearly working through his thoughts, but his face is impressively clear. He knows it’s the only reason why he’s been called as back-up, knows that Bucky doesn’t trust him, but Steve does. And Steve needs him now.   
  
    “You’ve obviously got my number. I’ll take him in, but don’t go too far. I’m sure he’ll want to see you soon when he’s stabilized.”  
  
    Maybe. Bucky watches them ascend in the air, then disappears.   
  
    He doesn’t hear anything for a few days, but wonders through the city. Visits Steve’s favorite bakery and thinks about him eating a sickeningly sweet cupcake there. In the next alley, Bucky punches a very neat hole in a dumpster and thinks about leaving, but he can’t. He’s still riding Steve’s bike around, which he knows is a bad idea. He’s removed the tracking unit on it, which surely Steve let remain there, but it’s Captain America’s bike, and he doesn’t feel worthy.   
  
    So he returns the bike to the Tower; when he arrives, the gates are open to the garage and he parks, finding it empty and quiet. Too quiet, like the HYRDA base. He pauses at the elevator, thinking about hitting that button.    
  
    It opens almost immediately when he decides to walk away towards the entrance he came through. He expects Sam, but it’s Stark. Of course it’s Stark, he thinks, halfway to laughing at himself - it’s Stark’s tower.   
  
    “RoboCop.”   
  
    Bucky keeps walking.  
      
    “He’s upstairs.”  
  
    “Don’t tell me he wants to see me.”  
  
    Blessedly, Stark doesn’t have a quick reply to that. So Bucky keeps walking.   
  
    “They did a number on him. We’re still not entirely sure what.”  
  
    “Yeah, and they used my face for whatever it was clearly.”  
  
    Again, Stark is quiet, so Bucky knows he’s right. If not, Stark would have said, no - they used Natasha’s too, or maybe they used Fury’s. Instead, they used just one face. They only needed the one.   
  
    “I’m sorry, Barnes. You know, with time-”  
          
    “He doesn’t need time. He needs space.” Bucky hesitates for a moment, one foot in the air. “Just - watch out for him.”  
      
    “Where you going, Barnes? You just going to disappear on him like this?”  
  
    Bucky’s almost out of the garage now.   
  
    “You only needed time. He tried to give you space, look what happened!”  
  
    Bucky fades into the sunlight, just one more civilian in the street.  
  
  
  
  
  
   _“Shove over.” Steve taps at his legs, and Bucky grunts, rolling over._  
  
 _“What’s wrong, Rogers? You wanted me here all along, and now that you’ve got me in your bed-”_  
  
 _Steve throws himself on top of Bucky, and the rest of his words die with a wheeze. “Jesus Christ, you’re heavy.”_  
  
 _“No complaints earlier.” Steve laughs. “Is that a blush I spy? Is the Winter Soldier blushing?”_  
  
 _The metal hand flies to Steve’s throat, used to the violence that follows when someone said something he didn’t like, but all his hand does is slide down Steve’s throat to rest over his heart. Traitor._  
  
 _He thinks about the last person he strangled, and then the person before that, and the person before that. Bucky sits up suddenly, knocking into Steve’s nose. He curses, clutching it and shifting off Bucky._  
  
 _“Steve.” He pants, his breath not coming as easily as it should. “I - I need -”_  
  
 _“Buck. Hey. Take a deep breath.”_  
  
 _“No!” Bucky stands, tripping out of the bed where the sheets have tangled around his naked calves. “I have to go.”_  
  
 _“Buck, no! It’s okay.”_  
  
 _He gathers his clothes, not bothering to dress, but Steve blocks his exit. He doesn’t touch him. Doesn’t threaten him in any way._  
  
 _“I want you to stay.”_  
  
 _“I can’t.”_  
  
 _“But you can.”_  
  
 _There’s not enough oxygen in his lungs, in his thoughts. He needs to go, but his feet won’t quite work, and he drops to his knees on the floor, something shattering off of Steve’s dresser. When he doesn’t get back up, Steve sits next to him._  
  
 _“Buck.”_  
  
 _“I can’t.” They’ve been playing this game for so long now - it’s been more than two years since DC. Two years of Steve finding him when he wants, never going home with him, never going into SHIELD, never letting Wilson or Romanov or anyone else catch his scent. Two years of leading Steve into dark corners and hungrily watching when they we part._  
  
 _“Buck, I love you,” Steve says, “and I want you to stay.”_  
  
 _He lowers his head, hoping his hair hides his face. Shrinks away from Steve, who is still carefully hovering, not touching._  
  
 _“I know it’s selfish. I’ve always been selfish about you, and I know I’ll always put you first. But damn it, it would be so much easier if you were here.”_  
  
 _Bucky doesn’t reply, still catching his breath, and Steve waits. When his breathing is no longer audible, Steve slowly reaches for him. When he doesn’t react, he brushes Bucky’s hair back from his face. Extending his other arm, he pulls Bucky to his chest._  
  
 _“Stay.”_  
  
 _“No.”_  
  
 _“Please.”_  
  
 _“I can’t.”_  
  
 _Steve sighs._  
  
 _“Stay tonight.”_  
  
 _“Okay.”_  
  
 _From then on, Bucky stays closer to Steve’s apartment. He wanders the blocks around it. Sometimes he lets Steve find him on the corner, and he lets him drag him into his place. He stays for a night - one time, two consecutive nights - and Bucky knows that Steve thinks he’s winning. Bucky never used to step foot inside, now he does. One day, he’ll ask Bucky to stay, and he will._  
  
 _Or at least, that’s what Steve believes. And maybe he’s right. Maybe, Bucky won’t slip out the window. Maybe he’ll stay in bed and let Steve use him as a blanket. Then they’ll eat breakfast together, because Steve can’t seem to go for longer than four hours without eating. They’d take a shower together, or maybe go on a run together first._  
  
 _Bucky doesn’t know. He never gets the chance to find out. It’s a Tuesday evening, and he gets off the subway and spies Steve’s bike parked outside. He just be home._  
  
 _But he’s not. And two days later, he learns that he’s not on a mission either. Wilson comes to find him, and it’s been days of waiting around, so Bucky lets him find him._  
  
 _“Steve’s missing.”_  
  
      
  
  
  
  
  
    Sometimes, in-between sleep and consciousness, Bucky wonders if he did find Steve, in the same way he knows that Steve never really found him. They’re not home, never will be home again, and Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve it.  
  
    But Steve. What did Steve do to deserve this?  
  
    The only thing he can think of is that he tried to bring a demon home.   
  
    Bucky does his research. He gets a name for the doctor, the one that looks like Zola. When he leaves, he takes Steve’s bike. It’s sitting just where Bucky left it, and he tries not to read too much into that.   
  
    Forgive me, he thinks. He can still see small Steve on his knees at church, bigger Steve on his knees in bed. Forgive me, Steve.   
  
    On his way out of the city, just as he emerges from the tunnel, he sees them. Heard them while he was under. The red, white, and blue.  
  
    Fireworks.  
  
    It’s the fourth of July.   
  



End file.
